


A Primer on the Horror Genre

by MicrosuedeMouse



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Friends to Lovers, References to s4e02 Paranormal Parentage, set post-4x02 to post-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:22:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MicrosuedeMouse/pseuds/MicrosuedeMouse
Summary: “So, when you say you don’t watch scary movies,” Abed said thoughtfully, “do you mean at all?”Annie nodded. “I’m too much of a baby, honestly,” she admitted with a crooked grin.“Would you let me show you some really good horror movies?” he asked. “If I teach you how to watch them so they’re not scary?"In the end, horror movies turn out to play a major role in Annie and Abed's relationship.
Relationships: Annie Edison/Abed Nadir
Comments: 28
Kudos: 132





	A Primer on the Horror Genre

**Author's Note:**

> There was a time I couldn't sit through a horror movie intact. I'm a huge wuss. But for a few years in high school I had a couple very close friends who spent a huge amount of their time watching and making fun of horror movies, and they taught me to appreciate the genre... in a way. I'm no longer in touch with either of them, but I still credit them with showing me how horror can be fun, and also making _Insidious_ one of the most hilarious movies I've ever seen.

Abed sat down next to Annie on a couch by the wall of Vicki’s apartment, handing her a can of root beer. After half the study group had bailed, the party wasn’t exactly either of their speeds, and now they were mostly just staying out of the way in one corner of the living room until they felt like going home.

“So, when you say you don’t watch scary movies,” he said thoughtfully, “do you mean at _all?_ ”

She nodded, cracking open the soda. “I’m too much of a baby, honestly,” she admitted with a crooked grin. “Once in middle school I went to a slumber party and the girl hosting insisted on watching _Final Destination_. I couldn’t get it out of my head for _months_.”

Abed scrunched up his nose. “ _Final Destination_ really isn’t that good,” he told her. “And the franchise… I mean, horror is one of the worst genres for milking one success for every penny it’s worth, but honestly. It’s a mess of a series.”

She snorted out a giggle. “Good to know.”

He smiled then, tipping an open bag of Skittles towards her in offering. She took a few with a smile of her own. “Would you let me show you some really good horror movies?” he asked slowly. “If I teach you how to watch them so they’re not scary? There are some real classics in the genre. Definitely worth watching, even if you scare easily. And they can be really fun if you have the right approach.”

“The right approach, huh?” Annie asked, amused.

“Sure.” He nodded. “You start with somewhere comfortable to sit and a good blanket in your lap. Then – this part is important, especially early on – you only watch during the day, before the sun goes down. After sunset can be okay if you keep the light on, but before is better. You also never watch alone. Watch with a friend, someone who makes you feel safe.” He raised his eyebrows and pointed at her, making sure it was clear that he at least _pretended_ to take this methodology seriously. “And then, the real key – you make fun of it the whole time. The best haunted house movie of all time completely stops being scary if you start joking about how _polite_ all these doors are, opening themselves for the protagonist all on their own.”

She was laughing now, and he grinned in return. “I’ll be honest, I’ve never tried it that way,” she conceded. Then she tipped her head back, giving him an appraising look. “What scary movies would you want to show me, if I agreed?”

“Well, I’d start with _The Ring_ ,” Abed answered, nodding towards her costume. “Obviously. Probably the original Japanese version, which is actually just called _Ring_ , if you could put up with subtitles – there’s debate over whether that or the American adaptation is better, but I’m a strong proponent of watching both, in order.”

“Hm.” She reached over to steal a few more of his Skittles, considering this idea. “And you can guarantee this no-scare horror-movie-watching method, can you?”

“Or your money back,” he agreed, raising his eyebrows and offering a silly grin.

As it turned out, Annie did not like _Ring_. Or _The Ring._ What she _did_ like, though, was watching them with Abed.

They decided to watch them on a Sunday, while Troy was out of the apartment, visiting his dad for the day. Abed made a big bowl of popcorn and even walked down the block to buy slushies from the gas station, and he offered Annie his heaviest, safest blanket. He only pulled the blinds just enough to keep the glare off the TV screen, and they installed themselves in the armchairs, Annie silently appreciating the opportunity to steal Troy’s seat for the day. Abed hit the _menu_ button on the DVD remote and scooted his chair close to hers.

“You can tell me if you need me to pause it,” he told her, and honestly she was a little surprised by his understanding. “But remember, it’s not scary. It’s _funny._ ”

Every time something startled her, she’d reach out and grab at his hand, without really thinking. He’d hold her fingers tightly, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles, and find something to joke about each time. “She looks just like Britta after that bush party Starburns had last fall,” he’d crack, and Annie would snort out a laugh in spite of herself.

By the end of their second movie, she was starting to get the hang of razzing the movie instead of getting invested enough to let it freak her out. When Abed got up to take the DVD out of the player and put it away in its case, he glanced over his shoulder at her with a slight smile.

“So, whattaya think?” he asked curiously. “Would you do this again?”

Annie found herself smiling back. “…Yeah, I think I might,” she agreed after a moment. “But it’s _your_ responsibility to take care of me if I wake up from a nightmare at three in the morning.”

He considered that for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, I can handle that,” he decided. “Glass of water, long hug, tuck in your blankets, rearrange your stuffed animals so they’re all on top of you.”

She couldn’t help laughing aloud. He knew her too well.

After a while, it became something like a little tradition that Annie and Abed shared, anytime they found themselves with a free afternoon while Troy was busy. Abed would pull three or four DVDs from the shelves and let Annie choose which one she was interested in that day. He’d make popcorn, or else they’d make a pot of buttered noodles and eat their dinner in front of the TV, and Annie’s skill at making fun of horror movies slowly improved. But sometimes she’d just be quiet, paying as much attention to Abed as to the film, because between his goofy jokes and his passion for the industry, he was at least as interesting. He’d lean over every so often, excited to explain a homage or an interesting editing choice or how a certain practical effect was achieved.

The one thing about horror movies that she couldn’t seem to get used to, no matter how many they watched, was the jump scares. She was too easily startled; they took her unawares every single time. So the two of them developed a system: since Abed had seen every one of these movies already, he already knew when the jumps were coming. A moment or two before it happened, he’d reach over and squeeze her shoulder or her forearm in silent warning, and she’d have the chance to brace herself.

Annie liked their tradition even better when they finally got a small sofa in the living room and she was able to lean into Abed’s shoulder as they watched. His warm, implacable presence was even more comforting than his heavy blanket, and he never complained if she hid her face in his sleeve during gory scenes. In fact, when she found _The Hills Have Eyes_ a little too bloody to bear, Abed didn’t even say anything as she buried herself back in the cushions and blankets and pressed her nose into his bicep – he only lifted his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close, the gesture surprisingly intuitive coming from him. Later he told her he’d try to steer away from slashers, since it was becoming clear that she wasn’t able to enjoy them even in a silly way.

The frequency with which they sat down for scary movies varied after Troy left, and again when Britta moved in – the latter didn’t always quite grasp the _spirit_ of making fun of horror movies in order to enjoy them, instead usually delving into the complex psychological implications of haunted-house movies as metaphor for familial trauma. No matter how many times Abed told her firmly that there was a _time_ and a _place_ for breaking down the analogies present in horror stories, she couldn’t seem to grasp that that time and place wasn’t _right in front of the TV, as you’re watching._

Also, sometimes she wanted her couch back, and that much was hard to argue with. It was her bed, after all.

Nonetheless, they still managed to find the time for their horror movie sessions, usually when Britta was going to be working until two AM anyway. She kept them up-to-date on her work schedule – a shared calendar was a _very_ important aspect of living with Annie Edison – so they were able to plan around her shifts, and it gave them both something to look forward to every few weeks.

Annie had been becoming steadily more aware, over the last few months, that they effectively wound up cuddling every time they watched a movie just the two of them, now. She wasn’t sure _exactly_ when things had reached this point – they’d always been physically affectionate, or at least _she_ had, and he’d never objected – but they seemed to be reaching a new level. Leaning into him for the sense of safety, and letting him give her his little warnings when she had to brace herself… that had been one thing. But now, she’d rest against his side automatically when they sat down, and as soon as they finished their popcorn he’d put the bowl aside and raise his arm loosely around her shoulders, or else he’d take her hand and absentmindedly play with her fingers. It was a habit he’d had for years, but now he was doing it more than ever. And sometimes, if they had time to watch two movies, by the end of the second one he’d be leaning over to one side, against the arm of the couch, and she’d have followed, resting against his chest.

She wasn’t an expert on friendship, really, but that seemed awfully intimate for friends. She didn’t say anything, though, or try to change it, because it was… nice. In a lot of ways it had become her favourite pastime, and she didn’t want it to stop happening.

She found herself in exactly that position again as they wrapped up their double-bill of _Rosemary’s Baby_ and _Black Swan_ , which Abed had promised her was an excellent pairing. He was leaned back on Britta’s pillow, which cushioned the hard arm of the sofa for him, with one arm folded behind his head. Annie was stretched out next to him, most of her small frame warm and comfy between Abed’s legs and the back of the couch, but with her cheek resting on his chest and one arm tossed lazily across his stomach. As the credits rolled and the strange ending ran through her mind, she shifted slightly to look up at him.

“I liked that one, actually,” she admitted.

Abed’s eyes lit up. “I thought you would. It’s a fascinating meditation on the pursuit of perfection, not to mention notions of identity and the complex mother-daughter relationship.”

“It was still definitely scary,” she told him. “And… uncomfortable. But really interesting. I think you might finally be winning me over to the idea that there are _good_ horror movies.”

He grinned, playful. “Of course I am. I’m always right, Annie.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes, and he shifted the arm that wasn’t behind his head, making her suddenly aware of the fact that his hand was resting lightly on her back. She hadn’t noticed it there before, but it didn’t… _bother_ her. In fact, it was comforting. Lying on him like this felt lovely. Abed was warm, and he smelled good, and she was completely at ease with him. And he was looking her in the eye, smile slowly fading, his gaze deep and intent.

And then she was kissing him, somehow.

It was as intense and exciting as their paintball kiss had been, nearly four years ago at the end of their second year at Greendale. Neither of them was entirely sure how this one started, but they didn’t want it to stop, either – Annie fisted her hands around the zippers of his open hoodie, and Abed buried one hand in the back of her hair, the other pressed between her shoulder blades. They kissed deeply, and passionately, for as long as they could both manage without air.

Finally they broke apart and stared at each other for a moment, almost confused.

“We should… make dinner,” Annie said softly, after a long pause. Her grip loosened on his sweater. “It’s almost nine.”

“You have a good point,” he agreed, equally quiet, his hand untangling from her hair.

Carefully, she kicked the blanket off of their legs and extracted herself from him, and once she managed to get to her feet, sweeping imaginary dust from the front of her skirt, he followed suit.

They cooked dinner in relative silence. It was habitual, easy. Both of them knew what was just around the corner, as soon as finals were out of the way. She knew he’d been applying to production jobs in Hollywood, and he knew she’d scheduled an interview for that FBI internship over the summer. Not so far from now, they were probably headed in opposite directions, and beyond that, everything was… unknown. So whatever had just happened between them, addressing it seemed too difficult. Too complicated.

They sat opposite one another at the little table to eat. Halfway through his spaghetti, Abed coughed slightly before breaking the silence for the first time, meaningfully at least, since they’d gotten up off the couch. “You know, there are apps for syncing up a movie so you can watch with someone long-distance,” he suggested. “So, maybe, if we both have enough free time – we might be able to fit in a movie every so often, no matter where we end up this summer.”

Annie smiled, finally meeting his eye again. “That might be fun.”

Watching together, cross-country, didn’t work out quite how they’d hoped. Annie still found, even though they were talking, that she wasn’t up to watching scary movies totally alone in her new apartment. It wasn’t the same, she told him apologetically, and then – with a bit of a smile – she reminded him that he couldn’t come comfort her after any possible nightmares, any more. Abed conceded to that, and they stuck to texting daily and making phone calls when there was time.

When Thanksgiving rolled around, they finally got to see each other again. Annie hated spending holidays alone but she didn’t want to go home, either, so Abed invited her to come stay with him in LA for the long weekend. When they locked eyes at the airport, it seemed to hit them both that it had really been over _six months_ since they’d last seen each other in person, and then they were both beaming and she let go of her bags to fling herself at him and he wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her close.

“I’m so happy I’m here,” she murmured to him, biting back a grin. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he told her, feeling his heart grow warm. It was easy to forget that he was lonely, so far from everyone he loved, but now that she was in front of him it was like everything was lighter.

It was so easy to fall into old habits, like they’d never been apart at all. Saturday flew by as Abed showed her around the city, pointing out his studio and taking her to see his favourite comic store, and the best movie memorabilia museum, and the little café where he liked to get hot chocolate and people-watch when he had a day off. In the evening, after dinner – buttered noodles, of course – he asked if she wanted to watch a movie, and suddenly Annie got a shy look on her face.

“Actually,” she said, smiling self-consciously, “I wanted to ask you, while I was here – um, have you seen _The Purge?_ I know it just came out on DVD a little while ago, and all my co-workers have been talking about it… but I didn’t want to watch it alone.”

Abed lit up. She had never _suggested_ a horror movie before. “I saw it in theatres,” he told her with a nod. “I bought a copy when it came out, but I haven’t watched it again yet. We could definitely watch that tonight.” He turned towards his shelves, walking his fingers along the spines of the DVD cases until he found it.

“You still have to warn me of jump scares!” she reminded him, her smile wider now.

“Of course,” he agreed with a nod. “Let me go make popcorn.”

After _Rosemary’s Baby_ and _Black Swan_ , their horror movie nights had been a little more careful. They’d stayed upright on the couch, and Annie hadn’t leaned into him as often, and most of their contact had been his warnings to brace herself. Tonight started the same way, sitting side-by-side with a bit of a gap between them, but after a while she started to inch closer. And he let her – because it had been six months, and he’d missed her more than he knew how to say, and he _wanted_ to be close to her. When she rested her cheek on his shoulder, giggling at some joke he’d made, he smiled. When he felt her grab his hand as the tension in the movie rose, he threaded his fingers between hers and gave her a little squeeze for comfort. Having her there with him felt exactly right.

When the movie ended, and his apartment had grown dim even with a lamp on behind them, he glanced down at her face and found her watching him. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth, just a little, and she looked – a lot of things. Annie’s expressions had always been so complex. But he’d always been able to read her, too, because she didn’t _hide_ anything from him. She looked nervous, and hopeful, and unsure, and tender. She swallowed, and her eyes flicked ever so briefly down to his mouth and up again, and he knew she was thinking the same thing that he was. So he ignored the voice telling him not to do this again, and he kissed her.

It wasn’t quite like it had been early last spring. It was cautious, careful, slow. But wanting, too. Like they were both desperate to know that they were on the same page. He cupped the edge of her jaw, trapping her hair between his hand and her cheek, and felt her fist her hands in his t-shirt.

This time, when they parted, they didn’t stare at each other. They didn’t even open their eyes right away, instead resting their foreheads and their noses together and taking a moment to compose themselves. One of her hands left his shirt to land over his on her face, as if to keep him there.

When Abed _did_ open his eyes, he found Annie looking up at him, a little breathless, a little nervous, but her eyes shining with joy, too. “Abed,” she started softly, and he just looked at her, waiting to hear her out. “Whatever this is, it’s– it’s not going away with time, or distance. I thought maybe it would, but… I feel the same now as I did before.”

He nodded slightly, starting to smile a bit himself. “Yeah. Me too. In fact – I’m pretty sure I love you, Annie.”

Her expression brightened even further as she fought to contain a bigger smile. “I love you, too, Abed,” she whispered. “So we– we need to figure out how to approach it. How to do this from different states, for a while.”

For ten months, each time one of them visited the other, they’d find time for a scary movie. It had already been a beloved tradition, but the way it had eventually brought them together only made it that much more special to them. Eventually, when Annie managed to successfully secure a transfer to LA and move into Abed’s apartment with him, a horror marathon was their first order of business after all of her things were properly organized. (It was past time, Abed had decided, to introduce her to the original _Evil Dead_ trilogy.) Not long after, they spent two months steadily working their way through the _Friday the 13 th_ franchise, Annie enjoying Abed’s running commentary on the fluctuating quality of the series more than she enjoyed the movies themselves.

Over time, their scary-movie days varied in frequency, much as they had back at Greendale. There were other things to watch, and of course both of their schedules were constantly changing. Sometimes they went a month or two without watching a single one; other times they’d spend a whole weekend camped out on the couch enjoying ghost stories and gory special effects. Annie liked that it gave her an excuse to snuggle close to him in bed later and complain that she was jittery, because Abed would always smile and play along and wrap his arms around her, promising to keep her safe. _After all_ , he’d point out, _who better to survive a horror film than the guy who knows every trope backwards and forwards?_

It was nearly three years after _Black Swan_ that the two of them had a free evening and agreed, after dinner, that it was a good night for popcorn and a movie.

“We haven’t done a horror movie in a while,” Abed suggested, folding his legs inward as he sat down facing the DVD shelves.

“I’m not opposed to that,” Annie agreed, sitting on her feet on the couch behind him. “What do you have in mind?”

“How far did we get with the classics?” he asked her, flicking through his collection. “We did all the big ’80s ones, right? _The Shining, The Fly, Poltergeist…_ ”

“ _Hellraiser, Child’s Play, Nightmare on Elm Street,_ ” she continued, ticking them off on her fingers and nodding. “I think we ran the gamut.”

“ _Children of the Corn…_ oh, wait, I remember watching that one with you. You hated it.” He hummed thoughtfully, still flipping past DVD cases one by one. “What about Japanese and Korean horror? _The Grudge, Dark Waters, Uzumaki…_ ”

“I liked _A Tale of Two Sisters_ ,” she offered.

“ _Epitaph?_ ” Abed suggested, holding it up.

“Is that the one with the doctor? Whose fiancée killed herself?” When he nodded, she said, “Yeah, we watched that last year, I think.”

“Okay.” He slid it back into place on his shelf and continued to search. “Oh. What about _The Ring?_ ”

At that, Annie began to laugh. “Of course I’ve seen _The Ring_ ,” she told him. “That’s the movie that _started_ all this, remember? Because I dressed up as Samara – or Sadako, whichever – for Hallowe’en, even though I’d never seen the film, and you asked if you could show it to me. Both versions.”

“Hmm.” He sounded unconvinced, drumming his fingers on the shelf. “Are you sure you’ve seen _this_ ring?” he asked, skeptical. Then he turned around, planting one knee in the carpet as he did, so that he was kneeling when he faced her. In his hands, he held a small velvet box, lid open to show a modest diamond ring. Silently, he raised his eyebrows in a question.

She stared at him, the fingers of one hand landing gently over a slightly-open mouth. After a second or two, he tipped his head slightly to one side, as if to remind her that she hadn’t yet responded.

“Abed?”

“Yes, Annie?” he asked innocently, matching the quietness of her voice.

“Is that…?”

He glanced down at the ring, casual as ever, then back up to her face. “An engagement ring? Yes. I’m proposing to you,” he informed her, nodding.

Biting back an enormous smile, now, Annie pulled her legs out from under her and then slid off the edge of the couch to the floor, right in front of him. “And I accept,” she answered softly, her voice growing thick. Abed grinned at that, pulling the ring from its cushioned box and reaching for her hand so that he could slide it onto her finger.

“You’re the only person I know who’d use _horror movie titles_ to propose,” she murmured, clearly overwhelmed as she looked down at the ring.

“I kind of thought that was why I _should_ ,” Abed admitted, amused. “You may have mentioned once or twice that you like it when I do things in a way no one else would think of. Also, like you said, _The Ring_ started this. Started everything. Sort of left me with an opportunity too good to waste, don’t you think?”

She nodded, struggling to contain her smile, and reached to take his face between her hands. “I don’t like it, I _love_ it,” she told him, pulling him forward for a kiss. He laughed slightly, one of his hands bracing against the floor and the other landing gently on her waist as he obliged her. “I love _you_.”

“I love you, too,” he breathed back, smiling against her lips. “Hence the proposal.”

She kissed him again, for a long moment, before pulling back a bit. “I don’t think we’re going to end up watching a horror movie tonight,” she giggled. “Or any movie.”

He shrugged one shoulder, clearly unbothered. “That’s okay.”


End file.
